


Little Demon Fighter

by supernovae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, College, Hipsters, Human Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 16:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernovae/pseuds/supernovae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel, a shy, creative writing major at UCLA, was only expecting a chai tea latte when he walked into Starbucks. But what he got was so much more than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel Novak had never been a social person. He didn’t have many friends (maybe only one, really), he’d only had one girlfriend (who, though he had broken up with her, was the one friend that he had), he much preferred the fantasy world of books to the throbbing world of narcotics and sex that was high school and college parties, he could hardly place an order at a coffee shop without messing up his order and apologizing profusely, his face pink. In fact, he was currently standing in line at a coffee shop, about to mess up his order and apologize profusely, his face pink.

Despite his tendency to suffer embarrassment at every coffee shop he visited, he loved coffee shops. He loved the rush of warmth and the welcoming aroma of the brewing liquids that greeted him when he stepped inside, he loved the soft, tinkling jazz playing in the background of people’s quiet chatter, he loved the cushy chairs and the people sprawled on them, typing away at their laptops with their headphones in their ears. He loved coffee shops for the same reason that he loved books: they transported him to a kind of other world, and consistently. He knew that every time he opened a Harry Potter book, he would find himself at Hogwarts, bearing witness to the adventures of The Boy Who Lived. He knew that every time he entered a Starbucks, there would always be the delectable smell of coffee brewing, there would always be soft, tinkling jazz playing in the background of people’s quiet chatter, there would always be cushy chairs and the people sprawled on them. And in both worlds, he could take solace from the real world, and no one would bother him.

Well, typically.

Cas normally went to the campus Starbucks, but today he’d ridden his bike to Westwood, the village next to UCLA. He was a freshman there and he was facing midterms for the first time. Unlike most of the people there, he wasn’t there to study—he didn’t want to ruin his personal oasis with school stress. No, he saved studying for his dorm. He was there for a chai tea latte and the fantasy that, at least for a little while, he had nothing to worry about. Naturally, the line was huge, filled with students stressed out and in need of caffeine. Sighing, he removed his earphones from his pocket, went through the copious task of untangling them (seriously, how could they manage to turn into a Greek labyrinth after just a few minutes there?), and was soon comforted by the familiar sounds of Miles Davis’ crooning saxophone. He also decided to read a fanfiction saved on his phone, a Harry Potter college AU, or Alternate Universe. He found it interesting, but also wondered why someone would glamorize college life in such a way. Who’s actually had a romantic encounter at a campus Starbucks anyway? Would they even have Starbucks in England?

His thoughts were broken by a tap on the shoulder. He took out an earphone and said “wha-?” before he realized that he had reached the front of the line.

“I can help the next customer in line,” a voice called, somewhat mocking.

Cas blushed deeply, stepped up to the counter, babbled out his order for a chai tea latte, then quickly moved to the side to allow the next customer to order. He was about to return to his fanfiction and jazz when he spotted the barista on duty.

He was tall, with perfectly tousled brown hair resting underneath the signature barista hat, lips in a slight pout, golden skin, white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the crooks of the elbows so Cas could clearly see how muscled he was, eyes—oh god, eyes like little green and blue universes, intensely focused on their task. And the way he moved around the bar—Cas had never seen making coffee as particularly graceful or beautiful, but the way he seemed to flow from station to station creating perfect drinks in no time seemed poetic, in a strange way. Though, as a creative writing major, Cas had learned to find poetry and significance in everything.

Before he knew it, a deep scratchy voice called out, “Venti chai tea latte for… Castiel.” Cas rushed up to grab it, and just as the barista handed it to him, he somehow fumbled it and spilled it all down the front of his sweater. Cas resisted the urge to yelp like a Chihuahua. He grabbed some napkins and started to clean himself off. He could hear the snickers of other students, but he could honestly care less. He was much more concerned about having embarrassed himself in front of Mr. Gorgeous Barista.

“Shit, man,” hissed Mr. Gorgeous Barista himself. “Dude, I’m so sorry. I thought you had it, but—“

“Oh no don’t worry, it’s fine, really,” mumbled Cas, avoiding eye contact with the guy and focusing intently on mopping up the spilled drink.

“Here, don’t do that. Let me get it,” said the barista, hopping over the counter, grabbing the napkins from Cas, and wiping up not only the floor, but also Cas’s sweater. Cas’s stomach twisted. He really was entirely too attractive. “That musta hurt like a bitch. I’m sorry, man,” said the barista once again. He straightened up and suddenly their eyes were connected and Cas didn’t know that it was possible to blush even harder than he already was and was that gorgeous barista staring at him? They both looked away awkwardly at the same time, Cas mumbling a thanks and the barista clearing his throat.

“So… um. Why don’t I go make you another drink? Chai tea latte, right?”

“Um, no, it’s fine,” said Cas to his feet. “I’m not really in the mood for tea now, now that I’ve had it spilled all over myself.”

Dean blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen dude—sorry, what’s your name again?”

“Castiel Novak.” _Whywhywhydidijustgivehimmyfullnamethatwassostupidwhy_. “But um, you can call me Cas.”

The barista didn't seem to find anything strange about that. He smiled and held out his hand. “Hi Cas. I’m Dean Winchester. But you can call me a klutz.” Cas laughed too hard for what the joke allowed, but Dean seemed pleased. There was an awkward silence as his laughter died down.

“Um, I should really get going…” said Cas, starting to turn toward the door, but Dean grabbed his wrist. Cas hoped he didn’t feel his pulse.

“Wait,” said Dean. Cas relaxed and looked back at him expectantly. Dean looked him in the eyes, blue-and-green universes boring into his soul it seemed, and said, “Let me take you out. If you won’t take another latte, it’s the least I can do.”

Cas’s heart seemed to leap out of his chest. This was entirely too good to be true. How could someone like Dean possibly be further interested in Cas? Yet those eyes seemed completely sincere… But Cas, being the relentlessly polite boy that he was, said, “Oh well, you don’t have to do that, really that’s completely unnecessary…”

And Dean smiled and said quietly, “But I really would like to take you out, Castiel.” Cas breathed out heavily and stared down at his shoes. Could this really be true…?

Then a voice yelled, “Winchester! Quit flirting and get back to work!”

Dean placed his hand under Cas’s chin so that they could make eye contact. “Fat Sal’s. Tonight. 8 pm. Is that okay?”

“Y- yes,” Cas managed to stutter through the shock of having been asked out by someone he’d just met minutes ago.

Dean grinned. “Awesome. Well, I gotta get back to work, otherwise the boss man will have my ass.” Cas nodded silently, too shocked still to do much else. Dean hopped over the counter and called, “See you later, Cas!” Cas waved back before rushing out of the coffee shop at the speed of light.

Once he was outside, he stood for a moment, watching the endless flow of people rushing past. It was 3 o’clock and the day seemed to be trying to prove the California stereotype right: clear blue skies, golden sunshine, a faint, perfect breeze. He knew he was smiling way too hard, but he couldn’t seem to stop. He had a date. With a gorgeous, gorgeous boy. Admittedly, he had no idea where or what Fat Sal’s was, and it didn’t sound particularly romantic, but who the hell cared? He was already outrageously lucky to have scored a date with a boy he could only ever dream of being with, he wasn’t going to complain about the venue.

“Fat Sal’s. Tonight. 8 pm,” he whispered to himself. He longed to say “Dean Winchester,” but he feared that Dean was a dream, a spell, and to say his name would ruin everything. But the urge to say his name, the urge to scream it to every single passerby, was not lost on him. He looked at his phone again. 3:15. How on earth was he supposed to make it to 8 o’clock without combusting? He thought about calling Meg, his ex-girlfriend and currently his only friend, who was an art student at UCLA. unlocking his phone and hesitating at the contact for her. Would the spell be broken if he told her? He decided exploding was a slightly worse fate, and hit the call button.

Thankfully, she picked up almost immediately. “Hey Clarence, what’s up?” She had this strange habit of calling him Clarence, which had confused him for the 9 months that they dated and still confused him to this day.

“Hey Meg. You won’t believe what just happened.”

“You had sex with a hooker and have just found out that you have gonorrhea?”

He rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Well then, what? You won the lottery, you got run over by a drunk driver, what?”

“I just got asked out.” 

“Bullshit.”

“Nope.”

“Where even are you?”

“Westwood. I was at Starbucks and this barista, who, might I add, is hotter than the flames of the hell you crawled out of—“ Meg interjected with a “pfft”-- “ he was handing my chai tea latte to me, and I dropped it or he dropped it, I don’t even know, and it ended up all over me. And he was all apologetic and he cleaned everything up, he cleaned off my fucking sweater, dude, and then he’s all like ‘let me make you another’ and I was like ‘nah it’s fine’ and he’s like ‘well then let me take you out’ and at first I was like no because I mean, he’s super hot and I didn’t want it to be like a pity thing, but then he said ‘but I’d really like to take you out’ and he lifted my chin with his hand and he’s all like ‘Fat Sal's, tonight, 8 pm’ and then he had to go back to work and also his name’s Dean Winchester how cute is that and now I’m here talking to you and oh my god is this not the most amazing thing?”

“Castiel Novak, you better not be bullshitting me with this, because that’s like the cutest fucking story I’ve ever heard.”

“Nope. No bullshit. Do you not hear the ecstasy in my voice?”

“I didn’t think you were the drugs type, Cas.”

“Aw, shut up.”

“Seriously though, if this dream barista guy is real, and is as actually hot as you say he is, you are the luckiest bitch on the planet.”

“I know. I can hardly wait until tonight, oh my god.”

“Knowing you though, you’ll be a nervous wreck the whole time.”

Cas blushed. “Shut up. Anyway, I’m gonna go ride back to campus and get ready.”

“And fap to his image, right?”

“Oh my god, just shut the hell up, Meg,” Cas whisper-yelled, somehow believing that Dean might have heard her. He could hear her laughing.

Once she calmed down, she said, “Okay, seriously though, I’m happy for you, man. I hope you have a good date. This Winchester guy seems sweet.”

“Yeah,” Cas said softly. “I know.” They said their goodbyes. Before taking off for campus, Cas put his earphones in and played one of his guilty pleasure artists, Weezer. Though most of the stuff after their first two albums was generic, somewhat nonsensical rock, it still made him feel good.

_Then the conversation stopped_

_And I looked down at my feet_

_I was next to you and you were right there next to me, and I said_

_“Girl, if you’re wondering if I want you to,_

_I want you to_

_So make a move,_

_Cuz I ain’t got all night.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel, a shy, creative writing major at UCLA, was only expecting a chai tea latte when he walked into Starbucks. But what he got was so much more than that.  
> (warning: there is some semi-sexual content in this chapter, so read at your own risk and all that)

After several hours of trying out countless outfits (he’d decided on a simple gray sweater and jeans, the place was casual anyway), trying to get his hair just right (should I mess it up? Should I gel it? Will it look like I’m trying too hard if I...), and finally googling the place (it was a 2 minute walk around the corner from the Starbucks), it was finally time for his date with Dean. The entire bike ride there, he was sweating profusely. He hoped his nerves wouldn’t screw everything up and make Dean never want to come near him again.

Finally, he arrived, feeling completely out of place. It was a little sidewalk joint, like a permanent food truck with barstools and two counters facing the street, a few flat screen TVs displaying some sports game, and an awning for a “roof.” It was completely packed, and he didn’t think that would change anytime soon. Even with just his sweater, he felt completely overdressed. He was executing his default reaction to any social situation, which was a bad sign. Meg was right, he probably would be a nervous wreck the whole time if he didn’t calm down right now. He took a few deep breaths before dismounting his bike and leaning it against the outside wall. He stood awkwardly, his hands jammed in the tiny pockets of his jeans, and looked around for any hint of Dean.

As time ticked on, uncertainty crept into his thoughts. What if Dean wasn’t coming at all? What if he’d asked Cas out just to spite him and embarrass him? What if--

 _Don’t do this to yourself, Cas_ , he thought firmly to himself. _Dean will show up, and if he doesn’t, then you don’t deserve such an asshole anyway_. So he continued to stand and look around and ignore the stares of the people passing by. He checked his phone. It was 8:15. His heart sank. It had been that long already? Desperately, he looked again for any sign of a dirty blond head of hair, a muscular pair of arms, a glint of blue and green. He found nothing, and sighed. _Should’ve known it was too good to be true_ , he thought bitterly to himself as he hopped back on his bike. He didn’t feel like eating dinner anyway, he was more in the mood for something sweet. And there was really only one place for sweets in Westwood; Diddy Riese. Diddy Riese was a staple of Westwood. It had been there since the 80s, and had been providing cheap ice cream sandwiches and cookies and shave ice to UCLA students ever since. That’s not to say that it wasn’t good, though; quality-wise, it was as good as any ice cream shop. But the prices made it even sweeter; the most expensive item on the menu was a dozen brownies, for seven dollars.

As it was a Friday night, the line was, as usual, out the door and well along the sidewalk. Cas went to the back of the line and dismounted his bike. Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him, and they seemed to be growing louder. He ignored them, until he heard a voice call, “Cas! CAS!” He turned around, and his heart leapt. There he was, Dean Winchester, running full speed toward Cas. But then he remembered the 15 minutes he’d spent standing outside Fat Sal’s, and his excitement lessened considerably.

When Dean finally caught up to Cas, he hunched over, his hands on his knees, panting heavily for a while. Then he straightened up, and, still panting heavily, said, “Cas, oh man, I- I’m so sorry I’m late, I got caught up at work and--” He coughed. “-- and I-- well, I just feel like a real jerk.” He looked up at Cas like a lost puppy, and Cas knew he couldn’t stay mad at him.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Cas.

“No, I feel so terrible!” said Dean. “I spill hot tea all over you, then I show up late to a date that I asked you out on...” He covered his face. “I’m sorry.”

Cas smiled. “Dean, really, it’s fine. I’m glad that you’re even here at all. I- I thought you stood me up.”

“No!” Dean said, dropping his hands, looking positively affronted. “I would never stand you up!” Then he became sheepish. “To be honest, I kinda thought you would stand me up. Y’know, why would you wanna go on a date with some random douche who spilled tea on you?”

Before he could think, Cas blurted out, “Because you’re really really hot,” then immediately felt himself blush afterwards. “I- I’m sorry, I don’t know why I just--” But he saw that Dean was laughing, and he gained confidence and started laughing too.

“So,” said Dean. “Did you want to head back to Fat Sal’s, or...”

“Well actually, I’m really more in the mood for dessert,” said Cas. “Besides, I’m vegetarian, and there’s like two vegetarian things on that menu.”

“Vegetarian?!” said Dean, so loudly that heads turned to look at them.

“Yes...?” Cas said, confused. “Is there a problem?”

“Well no, I just... vegetarian,” said Dean, repeating the term as though he couldn’t believe it. “Like, there’s... there’s bacon, and cheeseburgers, and bacon cheeseburgers!” Cas shrugged.

“Yeah, but I love animals. I mean, have you seen what they do to them in slaughterhouses and--”

Dean shushed him. “I don’t know, and I don’t wanna know. I’m happy staying ignorant.” Cas rolled his eyes.

“So,” said Cas as they slowly approached the entrance to Diddy Riese. “What’s your major?”

“Don’t have one.”

“What, you mean you’re undecided, or--”

“I don’t go to school.”

“Really?!” said Cas, in the same tone in which Dean had said “vegetarian.”

“Yeah. Why, you got a problem with that?”

“No, no, I just... I didn’t expect that, I guess.”

Dean grinned. “What exactly did you expect?”

“Well, I figured you were a student, since you work at the Westwood Starbucks... there’s nothing wrong with not being a student, I’m just a bit surprised.” Cas leaned his bike against the outside of the shop, and they were finally inside. They both scanned the menu boards. Cas always had a hard time making decisions, especially when it came to choosing something to eat, and especially at Diddy Riese, with the hundreds, possibly thousands, of different combinations. Also, the curve of Dean’s neck was proving very distracting. They reached the counter and the cashier looked at Cas expectantly. “Oh, um, you go ahead, Dean, I’m still deciding,” said Cas. Dean gave his order, and then it was Cas’s turn. In a last second decision, he decided on a raspberry shave ice with chocolate ice cream. The guy behind the counter handed them their food, and they went outside.

They sat down at the one free table, and ate silently for a few minutes, Cas enjoying the contrast between crunch and creaminess, and Dean enjoying the chocolate ice cream sandwiched between two M&M cookies. Then Dean broke the silence by saying, “Yeah, I don’t go to UCLA. My brother does, though. We share an apartment.”

“Oh. What’s your brother’s name?”

“Sam. He’s studying law, so I don’t think you’ve seen him.”

“Ohhhh.” Cas suddenly noticed Dean’s face-- or rather, the mess of chocolate ice cream surrounding it. He giggled.

“What?” said Dean.

“N-nothing,” said Cas, but at the bewildered look on Dean’s face, he burst out laughing.

“Well it’s clearly not nothing,” said Dean, sounding somewhat annoyed.

“No, it’s just... you have chocolate all over your face.” Dean rolled his eyes and proceeded to attempt to lick it off, his tongue lolling out and somehow completely missing all of the chocolate.

Cas laughed and said, “Let me get that for you.” He licked his fingers and rubbed at the chocolate-covered skin around Dean’s mouth. He couldn’t help but notice how nice and soft his lips seemed, and “accidentally” brushed over them a few times. He could feel Dean’s eyes on him, but refused to make eye contact. Dean’s face was completely clean now. Cas, in a final, daring, act, sucked all of the chocolate off of his fingers, and finally looked at Dean. His heart jumped when he saw the look Dean was giving him, like Cas was a meal that he wanted to devour whole.

Pretending not to notice, Cas said nonchalantly, “Where to next then?”

“I dunno,” said Dean. “Let’s just walk around for a while.”

They both got up and started walking, talking of nothing in particular. Soon, they found themselves at Whole Foods. “Why are we at this hippie grocery store,” Dean grumbled.

“ _Hey_. I happen to shop at this hippie grocery store,” said Cas.

“Oh yeah, that’s right, you’re a _vegetarian_.”

“Yes, I am, and I am running low on groceries, so I say we go inside,” said Cas, stepping forward, but Dean didn’t move. “Hey? Let’s go.”

“Not going inside that hippie grocery store...”

“Come ooooooon, Dean!” Cas said, grabbing Dean’s hand and pulling him forward. Once they were in the store, Cas felt a bit awkward about holding Dean’s hand and loosened his grip, but Dean tightened his. Cas’s pulse quickened and he bit back the urge to smile like an idiot.

They wandered the aisles, Dean occasionally picking something up and exclaiming, “What the hell is this?” And every time, Cas would patiently explain what the hell it was and smile as Dean would set the product back down, grumbling nonsensically to himself. “$8 for fermented tea? What even...” (Cas had to admit he agreed.)

And soon, they had reached the back of the store, near the bathrooms where there were no customers. Cas’s throat tightened as he thought about the way Dean’s lips had felt when he had “accidentally” brushed his fingers against them, and he wondered how they would feel against his own.

He didn’t have to wonder for long.

Dean placed his hand under Cas’s chin, just as he had when he’d asked Cas out, and suddenly, Cas knew exactly what it felt like to have Dean’s lips on his. And just as Dean was pulling away, Cas wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him harder. Dean moved his hands down to Cas’s waist, the slide of his hands down the sides of Cas’s body feeling like the best thing on earth. At least it was, until Dean opened his mouth slightly and touched his tongue to Cas’s. Cas grabbed at his hair like it was a lifeline. And a thought occurred to him: _I’m in the back of a Whole Foods at 9:30 at night, making out with a hot boy who I met literally hours ago and who for some reason asked me on a date,_ andhe did the worst possible thing you can do on a first kiss; he started laughing.

Dean pulled away and said, “What?”

“I just-” But Cas couldn’t continue, as he was seized by another sudden fit of laughter. Then Dean smiled, and he started laughing too. He slumped against Cas, his forehead resting against the smaller boy’s, and their lips were so close to touching, but not there yet. Somehow though, Cas thought that this might be more enjoyable than kissing, the warmth of Dean’s body, the soft music playing in the background, the quiet sound of their breathing, the sound of Cas’s heart beating at a thousand miles an hour, the way he was looking into Dean’s eyes and Dean was looking into his eyes, communicating in a language that neither of them knew that they could speak.

Cas dropped his hand from Dean’s hair and took his hand from its position on Cas’s waist. Cas’s eyes slid shut. He couldn’t believe his outrageous luck. What if he had decided to go to the campus Starbucks instead, or if he had gone to Starbucks at a different time, or if he hadn’t dropped the drink... But he knew that considering the what-ifs was useless. All that mattered was here, and now, and the way he felt like he’d known Dean for a lifetime, rather than just a few hours.

_Yours is the first face that I saw_

_Think I was blind before I met you_

_Now I don’t know where I am, don’t know where I’ve been_

_But I know where I want to go..._

_So if you want to be with me_

_With these things there’s no telling_

_We just have to wait and see_

_But I’d rather be working for a paycheck_

_Than waiting to win the lottery_

_Besides, maybe this time is different_

_I mean, I really think you like me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, I like my fanfiction to be as real-life accurate as possible, which is why I set this at UCLA. But what I didn't realize is that UCLA doesn't actually have a creative writing degree program. Oops. Other than that, however, these are real locations that I have visited, and that you can visit too! Also, I think I'll be finishing each chapter with some lil song lyrics, as that somewhat(?) goes with the title. (hint hint) May or may not make an 8tracks playlist once the fic is finished, whenever that is. As I've said, I honestly have no idea what's going to happen in this fic, or how long it's going to last. (hashtag how not to be a writer unhashtag) Anyway, the lyrics at the end of this chapter are from "First Day of My Life," by Bright Eyes.  
> OH AND P.S.  
> The reaction to this fic so far has been overwhelming! (Well, by my standards anyway...) So I just want to thank everyone who's read, left comments (only one comment though shoutout to you homenugget), and given kudos! You have no idea what this does for my confidence in my writing abilities, and I thank you all so much.  
> Oh and P.P.S.  
> I won't be able to update all weekend probably because I'll be out of town, but I promise on Monday or Tuesday there will (most likely) be a shiny new chapter for y'all!  
> LOVE AND KISSES TO EVERYONE XOXO

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there readers! So as you can tell, this is a college/coffeeshop AU. I was inspired by my friend Emily (who asked for credit in my AN) to write this, despite the fact that I have no college experience aside from what I've seen in the media and aside from the experiences of my cousin, who goes to UCLA. She also gave me the idea for the title (which will be explained in a later chapter). Anyway, acknowledgements aside, please kudos/bookmark/comment if you enjoyed this! I don't know how long I'm going to make this, but it will definitely be more than just a one-shot. Also, any criticism is welcomed and appreciated ^_^


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